The Name Game
by Bye11
Summary: "Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something- and it is only such love that can know freedom." (Jiddu Krishnamurti). Flash-Forward to ASIC but can be read on its own.


**A/N: Happy birthday Sab! This one is for you and for being an astonishing woman!**

**It is a flash-forward to A Study in Contradictions but can be read on its own. If you have read ASIC (thanks :D) then you'll recognize some references to it. There is a M-rated part but it can be easily skipped. **

She was addicted to fluffy pillows.

It wasn't about being a fussy sleeper. When exhaustion hit even an uncomfortable chair would suffice. But when she had a choice, fluffy pillow was hers. She liked the sensation of the head slowly sinking, of being surrounded by softness.

It was one of her pet peeves. It was also why cuddling in her sleep was not allowed. Peter had always complained a bit about not being able to feel her head on his chest when he woke up but she was beyond such sentimentalities.

Play was play and sleep was sleep.

She wouldn't sacrifice her comfort to please a Hollywood-movie wish.

Yet, that morning, she was utterly surprised in slowly coming to consciousness and perceiving that not only her pillow was hard but that it emanated a slight up-and-down fluctuation with each of his breaths. She turned around to find his hazel eyes pointed at her.

"Imagine my surprise when this morning I woke up with a very pleasurable weight on my chest. I thought you hated sleeping like that."

"I thought I did too."

"So you're saying that my chest is the exception? I get it, it's a great chest, broad, with a flat abdomen to boot."

She smacked him before answering.

"I'm saying that last night I was so tired that I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed."

He kissed her then, leisurely and slowly guided her to her side of the bed.

"I don't think so, because see, when you come from the door, your pillow is much closer than my chest so what happened was that you, tired as hell, actively chose to cuddle before falling asleep."

She blushed a bit.

He had her.

The case had hit a unpredicted snug and she had been working non-stop to fix it. When she had arrived home, she had needed to feel him close, so even in his peaceful sleep she had hugged him and rested her head on him.

"Are you complaining?"

He kissed her again, the smile that she had gotten used to during their alone time was plastered on his face.

"Nope, not one bit. I loved waking up like that."

"Then you should stop giving me a hard time about it or it won't happen again."

"Fine, hard-time stopped."

"What is it with men and wanting us to sleep on your chests? It's very primitive and incredibly bad for the neck"

Her hands that wanted to relieve her pain met his.

"Let me."

He turned her around and started massaging her neck and shoulders. She could grant him some other nights if this was the treatment she received afterwards.

"I don't know why you group me with the other men, I don't particularly like it. It impedes my nightly movements and generally makes me feel too warm but with you...I'll do the massage any time you feel the need to collapse on my body."

"How do you always outcheese me?"

"It's a talent."

"A talent? Really?"

His next remark came with a comical, childlike pout.

"I'll go back to giving you..."

She stopped him by capturing his pout in her mouth, slightly grazing the lip with her teeth. Teasing him, kissing him, laughing with him was the best way to forget all the thoughts that had crowded her head the night before.

The workload of her last days had been particularly grueling but there had been another reason for the exhaustion.

The wedding was coming up and people around the firm were starting to call her Mrs. Gardner.

The first few times she had experienced a thrill at hearing the name. At Georgetown they had joked about the fact that the only Mrs. Gardner was and would remain Will's mother. When she had gotten back to the firm, the bachelor title had suited him just fine. She had never imagined someone ever getting to be called that way.

Now the privilege was hers for the taking.

After a while, however, she had started questioning her instinct, thinking about the relatively-recent change in name she had already experienced. She had re-acquired her identity, did she want to give it up again?

* * *

When the divorce papers had arrived, she hadn't even given a second thought to the name. She had been Alicia Florrick for so long that she didn't even pose the question. It was the kind of detail that had somehow completely escaped her mind.

Will had been the one to bring it up. Shyly, tentatively.

"So does this mean that I can call you Ms. Cavanaugh again?"

He had asked, pointing at the papers.

The confusion at her not having made a definite decision on such an important part of what would be her life had registered in him, because he had backpedaled immediately.

"Or you can stay Alicia Florrick, I never call you by your last name anyway."

She hadn't missed the drastic tilt of tone in pronouncing the two names. He clearly had a preference as to what her name should be.

She wished she could accommodate him but she didn't want to act on a whim. She took time.

"I'll think about it."

In the following days, she had tried to understand what she wanted. The name Alicia Florrick that she had gladly taken on the day of her wedding had brought her a lot of misery. She liked the idea of going back to her original surname, the one with which she was just herself, without roles, without cumbersome obligations.

Still, what had driven her initial choice had been the need for a family unit so tight that not even the name could be inhomogeneous.

Now, a lot of disillusionment later, she had signed the end of that union but she still wished to discuss her name with what she would always treasure from her marriage: her children.

It turned out that the children weren't children anymore. They were completely on Will's side of the story. They had assumed that she would go back to her old name and weren't truly upset for what they considered a collateral matter. The last barrier demolished, she followed her intention.

She had told Will one late night at the office.

"I am going to need new business cards."

It had taken him just a few seconds to reveal the meaning behind her sentence. She was grateful because he didn't make a big deal out of it. He smiled and promised her they would have them made the day after.

On the other hand, he had made a big deal on the new signs being put around the firm, the new desktops of the computer and the new header for their documents.

She had been quite peeved about his insistence in giving her first billing. Granted, it was romantic but this was work and Will deserved his rightful place on their sign.

Until one day, he had brought back from his trip home a worn-out copybook and opened it to a precise page.

In her handwriting, on his notes, she had doodled, more than 20 years before, "Cavanaugh, Gardner & Associates" and from that moment on, she had started to share his childish enthusiasm fully. The name, though new, had a vintage quality to it. It reminded both of them to maintain at least a shred of that idealism that had animated their student-years.

"You have a lot to live up to, with that first billing."

He was deadly serious and she smiled. She would be her partner in everything but he hadn't forgotten the Supreme Court Judge that had been by his side for 15+ years. Nor had she forgotten him. They had taken the habit of seeing each other at least once a month. Neither the husband nor the girlfriend were welcome. The topics discussed were rigorously secret. She had never taken it personally. Will & Diane were a mystery she'd rather leave unsolved.

"I'll do my best."

They had spent most of that night christening the office of the new name-partner.

* * *

Now here they were again. Different time, same issue.

"What's on your mind?"

She knew better than to try and disguise her line of thinking. Will always got it out of her before or later. Still, she didn't openly want to ask him about her surname.

What if he just expected to take his? It wouldn't sit too well with her. Therefore she approached the topic from a different angle.

"We should think about the new name for the firm."

"The new name for the firm?"

He seemed genuinely surprised. Then a burst of recognition appeared in his eyes. It made him mischievous.

"Ah, you want to call it Cavanaughs & Associates"? It sounds better than the name we have now, granted, but I'm not sure about Will Cavanaugh. I kind of got used to Will Gardner."

Will still managed to amaze her in all the right ways. Did that mean that he did not expect her to change her name? She still wanted a clear-cut answer so she pushed a little bit more.

"Many clients expect it to be called Gardners & Associates."

"Many clients don't know us very well, do they?"

Another perfect but guarded answer. She pierced through the fog of the politically-correct atmosphere they found themselves in.

"I'm serious. We should talk about it."

"Is there anything to talk about?"

She was starting to get upset. Why was he skirting the subject?

"Why are you being like this?"

"Like what? I honestly don't think that there's anything to discuss. I told you I'd rather keep my name. Now it's up to you. What name do you want to have?"

"What name do you want me to have?"

"I'm a lawyer too, dearest. I won't fall for those tactics. What are you afraid of? That I'd be angry if you choose to keep your name? I promise you I won't be."

Yes, she was probably afraid of something like that. Not that she didn't know that there were in the 21th century but so many men still adhered to this standard with a religious perseverance.

"Why?"

Peter had been so adamant about having the paperwork done as soon as possible. And he wasn't even running for anything. Yet.

"Well, let me tell you about the first time the subject of Mrs. Gardner came up in my household. Imagine the scene: me, my sisters and my Grandma Rose in the kitchen, all impatiently grilling me about the woman I had fallen in love with at Georgetown."

She loved how casually he threw in conversations the fact that he had been in love with her for 20 years. Without resentment for what hadn't happened. Just matter-of-factly like an assumption that could not be questioned.

"So Aubrey ends the conversation saying "so, this girl will the next Mrs. Gardner"..."

"Do you remember the exact words?"

She asked teasingly. He had a very serious code about his storytelling.

"Or something to that effect. The story doesn't have the same pathos if I tell it with maybes. Shut up and listen because the words Grandma Rose told me are verbatim."

She complied. She had never had the pleasure of meeting the famous Grandma Rose but the way Will spoke so fondly about her had always made her a favorite of hers and maybe endeared Will to her even more.

"She said "Of course not. She won't take his name. She will do like me, keep her name and her man on his toes so that he can dance at her tune all life long." Very supportive, Grandma Rose, right?"

"I wish I could have met her."

She did. The idea of Will being surrounded and mercilessly ridiculed by his two sisters, his Grandma and her was incredibly appealing. Plus, she had an inkling that she and Grandma Rose would have found a whole slew of topics to agree on.

"I wish you could have met her too. She would have loved the power you have over me. Anyway, want to know what she said next?"

His eyes got a bit glossy and nostalgic. This was a loss that for him still stung.

"Of course. Her wisdom was unparalleled."

"A marriage is not an ownership agreement, remember that. And I wasn't her favorite grandson for nothing. I remember. I promised you a partnership with no Alpha & Beta, didn't I? I would love to be married to the Alicia Cavanaugh that first taught me that a marriage contract is different than any other."

Will had a knack for making her speechless. When he acted like that, oozing perfection without sweat nor self-consciousness she seriously wondered how he had waited for her all this time.

She did not deserve him.

Moreover, at times, she had the nagging suspicion that Will said things like these because he was aware of just how badly they turned her on.

She threw herself on him a bit clumsily, joints still a little asleep. He laughed heartily and moved so that she could properly straddle him. Then she draped herself on him to whisper into his ear.

"At times I think that your Grandma Rose told you all those things to help you get laid"

This time she experienced his laughter fully. His ribcage vibrated under her with the full force of his amusement. She was so taken in the sensation that she didn't see the change of position coming. At once, he was over her gazing at her with his patented, blush-inducing look.

"Jokes aside, I hope you know that I'm serious about this."

She had never doubted it. And the idea of being forever the Alicia Cavanaugh whose first, third and last love had been Will Gardner was extremely appealing.

"I know you are."

She knew that she should be serious because the matter at hand was but she couldn't help her focus drifting towards his exceedingly toned arms. She slightly caressed them and chuckled at the idea that had come into her mind.

"What?"

"Have you been hitting the batting cage more frequently than I know? Your biceps..."

She mumbled, under his increasingly self-satisfied grin.

"These are from your penchant for walls and counters."

"Aren't you glad that I'm around then?"

"I'm exceedingly glad that you're around."

He went to kiss her but she slipped away from his control.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back. I'll show you another penchant of mine. In the meantime, get rid of those clothes of yours."

She winked and continued towards the bathroom. On the door, she took a second of two to observe her future husband fumbling with his T-shirt.

"Look at you, all hot and bothered for a tiny bit of teasing."

The control she had over him never truly failed to amaze her.

"I'm always hot and bothered by your teasing."

"It's why I keep you around."

His reply was muffled by the sound of the closing door.

* * *

**M-RATED PART.**

When she came out, a few minutes later, he probably did not expect her to be as naked as he was. His glance was reverent but vulturine.

"Ready to put those arms of yours to good use?"

"Ready."

With a finger she invited him to come to her. But he was greatly disappointed when he went for a kiss and she pushed him back. She kept pushing slowly until he ended up on the bed again.

"Sit up!"

"You know how much I love when you take control."

"You know how much I love taking control."

She kneeled down on the carpet and took him in her mouth, her tongue gently massaging the skin that her teeth had slightly bitten. She adored the sounds she could elicit from him when she was like this and she cherished the fact that his hands on her hair were never forceful, violent or meant to keep her in place. Instead his fingertips lightly massaged her scalp in what easily became a doubly-erotic experience.

She got up way too early for his taste and his sigh of disappointment would have been comical, had she not been focused on her next move.

She evaluated for a second or two to calculate the sexier trajectory but her bed was way too tall and she suspected that there was no way to do it elegantly.

Although, maybe...

She retraced her steps until she was backed against the wall. He did not waste a second in coming after her. This time he let him kiss her ravenously and as he had anticipated her wishes, he helped her wrap her legs around him and secured her in the position. Then, before he could pounce on her, she murmured in his ear.

"Nope, let's go back to bed. And don't you dare get down, in either sense of the world."

"Not a chance."

He laughed and reversed his path carrying her. He sat them down on the ridge, her legs still fastened around his behind.

She rubbed her drenched entrance on his erection and invited him to fill her up, which he did, moving slightly back and without any hesitation. The sensation was paradisiacal. Without any warning, he began oscillating at first slowly then picking up his tempo, reaching every bit of her while she was scratching his back and nibbling on his ear and then his neck.

Suddenly, he came to a halt. Probably payback torture for before. Instead he talked:

"Look at me, Alicia!"

She acquiesced.

"Do you trust me to keep you from falling?"

If there was anything she had learned ever since that press-conference was that she could always put her trust in Will. For everything.

"Of course I do."

"Good, then let's exploit these arms of mine fully, shall we?"

She was flummoxed for a moment before she felt him anchor her fully with his right arm and then he plunged her down out of the bed, his right leg giving just a minimal support while he stayed sitting.

So he had meant literally...

In a normal situation she would have wondered where he found the sheer strength to sustain that position but at the moment any possibility of thought was denied by her entire body pulsating with unadulterated bliss.

With each trust he was delving further and further into her creating a crescendo of pleasure that brought her closer and closer to the edge. When the hand that had previously been on the silk sheets started teasing her clit, she was done for.

In the throes of her prolonged orgasm (had it been the position?, a corner of her brain asked) she found the voice to tell him "I love you, Will" before obliterating any sort of rational behavior.

He did not stop when the waves of her satisfaction subsided. On the contrary, he kept moving and, to her astonishment, she found herself near completion again. He brought her back up again, to the position she had originally imagined and she found herself face to face with her fiancé and his exerted and still painfully aroused look.

They began undulating gently while they took their time kissing each other. One of his hands had migrated from her back to her hair as he tried to keep her as close as possible. Her heaving breasts were rubbing against his bare chest, her right hand was tugging his hair and her left was designing imaginary patterns on his cheek.

He tried to put some distance between them so that his thumb could provide external situation but she just hugged him closer in response. She didn't know if it was the particular intimacy they had reached or the aftershock of her previous peak. In any case, she was close to restarting the oblivion all over again and had no intention of even minimally moving away from him.

With a mere look at him, she realized that there was no need to hang on any further because he, too, was in the process of letting go. They reached the climax at the same time, still woven together, their figures inextricably linked, a real-life representation of Aristophanes' speech.

He turned them around, to draw out their intense, simultaneous ecstasy and when it came to an end they both collapsed.

Spent, blithe, abreast.

**END OF THE M-RATED PART**

* * *

"So that was something..."

Her remark generated a burst of hilarity from the two of them.

"Yes, it was..."

She turned on her side, resting her hand on her elbow and watched him, his eyes closed, resting for a minute or two. The man that she had denied herself for so long, that she had hurt deeply and still made her more carefree than she had ever imagined she could be in her forties.

Her mind went back to what he had called his "closing argument". Not that she hadn't believed it at the time, but in the back of her head there had always been the fear that his carefully-constructed words would smash into the hardships of the everyday reality.

Instead, day after day, he had proved that his plan was viable and workable. And she still felt guilty about not seeing it before.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For that night in my office. I should have never done what I did."

She couldn't even properly get the words out. She had rejected him after he had put himself on the line like that. He answered confidently, with the fortitude of a man who had truly forgiven.

"It's water under the bridge. And Zach and Grace got to know me better this way."

Was she supposed to be turned off by her thinking about Zach and Grace like that?

She wasn't. Not one bit.

"Still, I think I deserve some more punishment. Just to clear out my conscience, you know."

Her flirty voice was back and she had him exactly where she wanted him.

"How about some sustenance first? Have you even eaten dinner last night?"

She had not and now that she took a second to think about it, she was damn hungry.

"You haven't. You would starve without me."

"Sure, you keep thinking that. I'll go find some food."

She got up, probably a little too fast in retrospect, because the dizziness hit her full force. Her ears closed off and the world started to become glassy before fading to black.

Will caught her before she could faint and brought her back to bed.

"You're not going anywhere. In a minute or two, I'll go."

"Are you competing for fiancé of the year behind my back?"

Anytime she called him with what she had always believed to be an old-fashioned, unnecessarily-posh French word, he had the cutest little smile playing on his lips.

Kalinda was right. He seemed on the verge on giggling.

She could only imagine what kind of reaction the word husband would provoke.

"I am. The fantabulous, month-long honeymoon they advertise will be ours."

"When would we ever have time to go on a month-long honeymoon?"

"You're a bubble-burster. That's what you are."

"It will still be memorable."

"It will be."

While he was lost in contemplation of the impending honeymoon, she snuggled towards him and recovered the position of her waking up with her head on his chest.

"I'll stay Alicia Cavanaugh then."

"Good"

He kissed her hair and added:

"And Alicia, it's not a concession I'm making you."

If there was something even remotely close to mind-reading, when it came to her, Will had it.

"No, I know. Do you remember the very first time Alicia Cavanaugh woke up on Will Gardner's chest?"

"You mean the very first time Alicia Cavanaugh smacked Will Gardner violently and accused him to go out of his way to cop a feel?"

"It was a very warranted accusation."

"No, it wasn't. I had been sitting down with my back on the couch all night and you had used my body as a comfortable cocoon to sleep. My hand ended on your very rounded behind purely by accident."

"Liar. You can admit it now."

"You go first and admit that you fell asleep on my chest voluntarily that night. I was your exception already."

After what he had told her, she could share a bit.

"I had had a fight with my mother. I needed to feel loved."

"You were loved already back then. Even if I hadn't probably even realized it yet."

"Do you ever think about what could have been?"

"No, not really. What would be the point? I'll tell you one thing, though. It's high time Professor Abrahams' prediction came true."

"I can't believe he pegged us so well on our first week."

Imitating the older man's voice, Will repeated what the Tort Professor had told them to quiet their intense debate.

"Ms. Cavanaugh, Mr. Gardner, that's enough. You two are a study in contradictions. Good thing you'll have your marital bed to solve most of those."

"The whole class laughed and I was so pissed at you."

"And I couldn't believe that a Professor had associated me with marriage. Me. It's probably why I stood up so vehemently against it in Family law."

"It took a long time but I finally changed your mind."

"I only half-believed it then. I'm convinced of the opposite now."

"Good. I'll quite enjoy calling you my husband."

He was already heading up for a kiss when he concluded their conversation.

"And I'll supremely enjoy finally being married to Alicia Cavanaugh."


End file.
